


Strength of Curiosity

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [84]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discipline, Experimentation, M/M, Meditation, Psychic Abilities, Spanking Contemplations, Tawse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 17:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1021235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 84: Hate.  Sammy reflects on the discipline he's receiving, and has a little supervised disciplinary... experiment... with Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strength of Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Copyright notice: I hold the copyright for Mistress Tess & Tessera, original characters, and multiple storylines associated with her. Someday (hopefully sooner than later) you'll see her in a series of novels, I ask that at this time others refrain from use of the character or venue without express permission. She is allowed to play in fanfic, I just request that I know about it. Frankly, I hesitate to post any of the fics with her in them, it's always a struggle... but... here we are.
> 
> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only. Follows in series from previous prompts, but stands alone if preferred.

Sam’s sitting by himself in the room the boys share, meditating. Or at least he’s supposed to be. He’s still tired enough from the incident three days prior that he’s not concentrating as well as he is able, and frankly he’s intimidated by the collection of people outside the door. Missouri and Jim are still present, and Mathieu made it clear that he’s not going to leave Tess until the demon situation is at rest – whether it’s temporary again, or permanent. Of all of the Winchesters adopted family, she’s spent the most time with them, and they all feel it makes her vulnerable, something she hasn’t taken kindly too. It wasn’t even discussed, that Mathieu would stay, he’s simply the best one to step up and do it, he’ll be teaching a series of classes on topping.

Sam tried to catch a glimpse of the tall dom’s notes the other day, and got a swat on the butt for his trouble. Not that it was an all out spanking or anything, and thank god no one but Dean had noticed it, but even quiet as it was, it stung, dammit. Mathieu’s smile had kept him from making any inappropriate comments in reply, too, it reminded him of being little and getting the same kind of swat from John for reading over his dad’s shoulder for the hunting journal, though those swats hadn’t stung as much. Then again, according to Dean, the man is heavier handed than John is.

That had been an interesting conversation, Dean warning him to stay out of Mathieu’s bad side. Dean had pulled him aside after Mathieu’s swat, and Sam had been sort of nervous that his brother was going to spank him – Dad sure never held back from handing out double the discipline that anyone applied to either boy. But there hadn’t been a spanking, just a quiet warning, and Dean had followed it up of a recount of the punishment the man had given him with a tawse, and though Sam hadn’t listened to the same story carefully while they were at Mathieu’s several months ago, he listened to it now when Dean had recounted it a second time. He felt shocked sober by the fact that John hadn’t doubled Dean’s punishment after, a clear indicator that Mathieu MUST be a stricter disciplinarian than Dad, and then his runaway mouth had asked Dean what the tawse was like, what it looked like.

Dean had given him a funny look, and towed him off to Tess, fortunately catching her at a moment when there was no one else with her. Sam had blushed, but Dean’s tone had been so matter of fact, and Tess’ reply had been so thoughtful and just as laid back, that Sam'd relaxed. The dominatrix had simply taken both of them for a stroll down to her office, Sam starting to feel slightly nervous. She hadn’t asked them to kneel, though, just brought out a worn leather bag, and rummaged through it, laying several different items out on the coffee table between them. It had been the fact that they were all seated, and she wasn’t behind her desk that had reassured Sam that he wasn’t about to get a firsthand example of what the tawse felt like.

Well, not exactly. She’d presented him with several different ones, and talked very frankly about the physics and the sensations behind not only feeling one, but wielding one as well. “Minimum effort for maximum result,” she’d said, “Best used for serious discipline alone, or for playing with someone who likes it heavy.” He’d given her a curious look, knowing enough about the scene to know that he and Dean played fairly heavily. “Not you boys,” came the reply to his look. “You may go fairly intense, but Dean doesn’t leave injuries behind – some like that, but you boys can’t afford it.”

That made sense. He’d run his hands over the leather, watching his brother shiver, looking at it.

“Dean?” He’d said.

“The one Mathieu used was just like the one you’re holding, Sammy,” had come the quiet reply.

“Oh.” And then, unable to help himself, “What did it feel like? Like Dad’s belt?”

Dean and Tess had exchanged a look at that point, and he’d wondered what the slow nod from Dean was all about. 

“There’s no good way to describe it, Samuel, you know that by now.” Tess spoke, rather than Dean, and she’d watched him frown, not happy with the reply. “I’ll tell you what, Sammy. You want to know that badly, go ahead and drop your pants – just sit back down, and I’ll give you a single stroke on the top of your thigh. I do that with clients who are deciding on limits, sometimes.”

He has to sit and think about it for a minute, and the fact that neither Tess nor Dean says a word tells him how serious she is, that this isn’t about him being punished, that it’s just a simple offer.

“Okay. Please,” he says, and is aware that Dean can’t hold back a wince. Wow. He’d even asked Dean if the older man would unbutton his jeans, but Dean had refused outright.

“It’s not punishment, Sammy. You want, I’ll hold your hand, but I’m not going to drop your pants for you.” Sam had been startled by the reply, but then his usual sense of determination overtook him, and he was able to undo the buttons, slide his jeans casually down – it wasn’t so bad, since his boxers were staying on, and returned to his seat. 

Tess had risen, removed the four-tailed tawse from his hand. Then her small hand had caressed his thigh, moving from left to right across the top of it. “This isn’t as sensitive as your bottom, Sam, remember that. Though right here,” she said, fingertips just encroaching on the inner part of his thigh, "is close, and I’ll lay the stroke down right here. You take my left hand, boy, and you squeeze it when you’re ready.” 

He’d felt briefly bewildered by what to him seemed like overbearing precautions, but frankly trusted her to do right by him. He eased up just a fraction closer to Dean, so that their knees touched, and Dean’s hand came to rest on Sam’s left shoulder. Tess stood calmly, tawse in hand, and Sam had simply taken a few breaths, then squeezed her hand gently. She’d moved immediately, lithe and powerful, and the tawse had made a peculiar sound in the air as it sailed toward his leg, and the smacking sound was impressive. And ten seconds later his leg felt like it was on fire, and his eyes had filled up with tears as he yelped and dove for the waiting shelter of Dean’s arms. 

He was surprised and offended by the fact that he found his breath catching in a sob, and reassured and embarrassed by Dean’s arms close around him, soothing him. He’d heard, rather than felt, Tess sit down where he had been just moments ago, and then her soft touch caressed his back, smoothing the wrinkles from his shirt methodically as he tried to quit shivering. A brief intense hate for himself, for overreacting overtook him, but passed, feeling Dean’s kiss on the back of his neck, and the fact that Tess’ hand hadn’t left his back.

“S-sorry,” he’d stammered, and both of them had shaken their heads. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Dean had said gruffly.

“That’s why it’s a trial run, Sammy,” had come the gentle reply from Tess. Sam had sat up to peek at her, felt her caress his cheek, wipe a tear away from his eye.

Sam had turned to Dean, then. “HOW many times did he swat you,” he’d asked, feeling fear and anger both course through him, and then Dean had set him away from the comforting embrace.

“As many as he needed to make the point, Sammy,” had come the quiet reply. “You take that anger up to the suite, and you and I will have a discussion about it,” his brother had said, in the tone that implied he’d have Sammy bare-assed and on the receiving end of a spanking without an iota more thought involved.

He’d shivered again, and dived back for his brother’s embrace. “Okay,” he mumbled, relaxing again. And then a minute later, “Please?”

“Please what.” Dean’s voice indicated that he was willing to listen, but wouldn’t tolerate being pressed for information.

“Don’t use that on me?” Sam had hated the fact that he sounded like a child pleading with a teacher about detention, but his thigh had still been on fire, and well…

“No, Sammy. No way.”

“Absolutely not, Sam. Discipline is appropriate to the individual, you know that, little boy. Now. Let’s get back upstairs, Sam has lessons to practice, and Missy will want to feed everyone before long.”

That had wrenched smiles out of both of them, and they’d gone. Though Sam had run a thoughtful hand, wincing, over the red welt on his thigh before they went, and it was still there, stinging, distracting him from meditation. Then a part of himself, one that’s buried in the depths of him, steels itself, and he slip into the breathing pattern, into the thoughts of the meditation, and his soul, at least for a while, is still and deep.

**Author's Note:**

> Soundtrack: Norah Jones - Turn Me On


End file.
